The Blackfeather Rises

by Dmitri Skomorochov

The lords are all drumming as they pound up a beat,
The ladies are dancing with bells on their feet,
When the Blackfeather rises to the light of the moon,
And the Goldenbells ring soft in beat with the tune,

On the night of the full moon, the people come near,
United by passion, tradition, and fear,
In hopes the Blackfeather will soon dance along,
With the mixture of drum beats, dancing, and song,

Once long ago, as the legends do say,
A circle was drumming, for practice and play,
A hawk black as pitch flew above them on high,
And dropped down a feather to remember him by,

The feather alighted on bells made of gold,
And made them to jingle, so the story is told,
And the people in the circle all knew from that day,
That the gods chose to listen to the music they made,

For the years that did follow, the people recalled,
The feather and bells and the message they saw,
They held celebrations to honor that day,
And to always remember the reason they play,

And so we all gather as we did back then,
In hopes the Blackfeather will rise up again,
And make the bells jingle, and make our hearts glow,
To know gods are watching and enjoying our show.